Unwritten Tales: Second Son
by Wayfarer
Summary: Denethor meets his newborn son and is troubled. He upsets Finduilas by presenting the child as Faramir to Ecthelion. And of course, Boromir now has a brother. Various characters’ firstperson narrative in selected events through to Faramir’s youth.
1. Disclaimer, Summary and Writer's Notes

**DISCLAIMER**

Standard disclaimers apply. I write for self-amusement, and am no Tolkien scholar by any stretch of the imagination. So any questions, comments, please send email to _closetwayfarer_ at yahoo dot com or simply leave a review here. I will gladly respond and correct errors that crop up. Thank you. 

**SUMMARY**

Denethor meets his newborn son and is troubled. He upsets Finduilas by presenting the child as Faramir to Ecthelion. And of course, young Boromir now has a brother. Various characters' first-person narrative in selected events through to Faramir's youth. Based on LotR's Appendix A. (Constructive criticism welcome.) 

The "Unwritten Tales" is Wayfarer's attempt at a canon-conscientious series to fill in the gaps of the epic tale of LotR.

**RATING**: PG. (Non-slash, non-language, mild violence). **GENRE**: Drama.

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**SECOND SON  
**by _Wayfarer  
(closetwayfarer at yahoo dot com)_

**Writer's Notes**

  
31-Jan-2004. "Second Son" has been revised and the story renamed "In His Father's Likeness". The planned series remains "Second Son" and episodes, though standalone pieces, will be uploaded as succeeding chapters. As envisioned, it will encompass key events in Faramir's early life and feature first-person narratives of characters in Faramir's life, not least of whom are Denethor, Finduilas, Boromir, and of course Faramir himself. 

12-Jan-2003. A few things came to my attention so I've given this story a once-over; it should now read as a complete little piece. More to address the family's interactions will come, probably later and they will also be short unabridged pieces – something like a series (whether it runs or not, well, we'll see). Thank you to **GreyLadyBast**, **shadow975**, **Furius**, **Mahal**, **Nilmandra** for your kind reviews. And to **Julie**, thank you for the helpful comments.


	2. In His Father's Likeness

**SECOND SON**  
by _Wayfarer  
(closetwayfarer at yahoo dot com)_

_  
_

**One  
In His Father's Likeness**

Despite the thick doors cries of pain could be heard plainly now and again. My son was coming into the world. My new son.

'Father?' asked Boromir as he pulled on my hand. His own was cold, though the strength of his grip startled me.

Resisting the urge to look again to where new screams came from, I fixed my sight on Boromir.

'Mother is still ---- preparing to bring your brother to us. It may be another long while before they are both ready to meet you.'

_Yes, and she shall then be free of the burden of sustaining another within her body._ I felt a strange mix of gladness, worry and -- something I could not name. I was glad at his coming, and for the relief it would bring Finduilas when the deed was done.

Another cry, faint this one, but no less painful. _Ai Finduilas!_

Cold gripped my heart, and the bitter taste of fear welled up in the bile that threatened to spill forth from my throat. Would that I held firm when she first disclosed her wish for another child, would that she did not use our love against me. For though I had made clear that I was content with the one son she had gifted me with, she insisted on bearing another one if only to give Boromir a playmate. _At what price, Lady mine?_

'Father?' asked Boromir again. This time I could hear the fear in his quavering voice.

I lowered myself that I may look him in the eye. 'She cannot join you for your evening reading today. And I, I cannot sup with you. I must stay here, and be ready against ---- against her need.' I mustered a smile. 'Do you think you can manage to read by yourself for another night?'

Clutching his book, he nodded. I knew not what I could say to such courage, so I kissed him on the forehead as I have often seen Finduilas do and whispered a blessing. 'Go.'

He bowed. 'Good evening, Father.' Then he left, a forlorn little figure. Pride swelled within as I noted how he had kept calm. At the least, he had not cried, nor had he run, though I was fairly sure his mother's cries and the strange smells from the rooms disturbed him.

_Too late, much too late for reproach now,_ I told myself. While she lay in labour, wait was aught I could do -- wait and pace the hallway. Time seemed to have stopped, such a length it was taking for the child to be birthed.

Thirteen hours since the midwife first closed the doors, the sound of the shutting doors an ill omen that echoed through the night. Three hours I count it since she last opened them:

Dishevelled hair and a dress stained, fresh red upon crusted brown patches, was aught I remembered of her; I had not thought to see the many shades of blood away from the battlefields. And at first I heard none of her words for rust smells of blood filled the air, luring my thoughts back to war and battlegrounds marred by blood-pools and dying flesh. _'My lord?'_ I gazed at her then, holding my thoughts firmly in place. She looked weary, and her voice was fraught with worry. _'My lord,'_ she said and sighed as it dawned on her that her words needed to be said again. _'It is proving to be a difficult birth. My lady is too weak and I fear the child may be lost and her with it. She bides us save the child,'_ she had said in a rush of words, as if the time she spent speaking them was of better use elsewhere. _'But we are striving to keep them both.'  
_  
Speechless, I stared at the woman, doubting for a moment her words and ability for she seemed young for one of her position. Her name I recalled, but too late -- the doors were drawn to and latched again in haste. _'Then, Ioreth, save her at all costs!'_ I would have commanded if the doors were open but a moment longer. Yet I was glad none heard those words, for they were birthed in a moment of rashness, and the Steward's heir should not have his weakness laid bare where others could see. And Finduilas I knew would rather the child was birthed than to live and hold a dead baby in her arms.

There was no time for further thought. Though it was merely hours since I left my desk, already it seemed the city could not be managed without my attention: all the court was bent on hindering my way, and every official claim it a matter of utmost urgency that the scrolls in their possession be read immediately. Long wearied of the endless attention they ask for, I remembered then the words of the Steward my father: _'Remember this well, my son: Gondor's needs shall not wait. You will feel the keenness of her demands. Would that this burden does not weigh upon you, for there will be naught I can do to relieve your pain but the joys and sorrows of Denethor the man, matters not to the realm, when you are Steward.' _

When I am Steward? I had no need to wait until that day, for ruling in the Steward's stead I am already bound, oft robbing Finduilas and later Boromir of their rightful allotment of the time and attention they deserved from husband and father. And now, I was not certain if there would time to redeem myself.

Another cry pierced the doors. I stood before it. My clenched fist was raised and aimed at the thick wood ere I knew it. With much effort, my fist was unclenched and it was an open palm I laid upon the door, trembling with fear. _You _must _live!_ I willed.

Dark was falling and I bade myself be calm as the shadows overwhelmed the unlit passage. I began to pace anew, trying to shake off the sense of helplessness threatening to swallow my sanity. At least I would have some peace until the dinner hour was over.

Alas it passed too quickly and soon they purpose again to test my humour in a maddening clamour of voices and robes. I turned around and retraced my steps, away from the court officials. I could hear their flustered breaths as they gained on me. I decided then to dismiss them for the night.

I stopped in mid-stride and faced them. Sudden silence ensued while they tried to disguise their confusion. I looked over each sternly and was surprised to find they had the grace to blush. I knew I must forestall then before they recovered enough to assail again my aching head with their cacophony.

'My lords, you have your petitions put into words, have you not?' A sea of white scrolls waved as they began to murmur. I held up a hand. 'Good. Lay your scrolls on my desk then. They will be seen to.' Then I turned and resumed again my pacing.

They lingered of course, but they were well-trained if naught else, and they left, though the stubborn lingered for a little longer. At length, I found solace in the quiet filling the hallway. And when the nightwatch came to light the wall torches, I waved them away, for I would not have my newly-made peace disturbed.

Night yielded slowly to day. The hope that followed a new day seemed to be missing this morning. _Hiding in shame_, I thought, watching the servants douse the torches lining the passageway beyond. Light drove away the dark, but it fanned the anger I felt: at the passage of time, the fruitless wait, my helplessness and the silent doors that kept us apart. My impatience grew, nursed by anger. The echo of my pacing grated. Through the doors I could hear voices, muffled and then and again, her voice: tired, weak and full of pain. No longer could I control myself, and the doors I would fain open ---- but for the thought of propriety that stayed my hand.

Helplessly, I began pacing anew. At length, calm enfolded my impatience, soothing it. I found peace and the strength to endure again.

And yet it was short-lived: Finduilas, her cries no longer pierce the doors. I stood before them, and a fear of what the silence foreboded nigh drove me to force the doors open.

Slowly I began to feel clammy warmth in my fists -- they were clenched so hard that my nails had bitten into the flesh.

Finally the chamber doors opened. Through the yawning gap, naught could be discerned at first. I feared for the worst when suddenly the midwife appeared in the doorway.

'My lord! The child is safe!' She was smiling, and there was pleasure in her tired voice. Hope flared, and the dark thoughts vanished, for a moment._ But what of my lady!_ My throat had gone suddenly dry and I could not utter the question on the tip of my tongue. Instead I stepped forth, eager to enter the chamber.

Yet as I strode forward, the midwife hindered my way, and presented a bundle with pride.

'Look at him, my lord! What a lovely child!' smiled the midwife.

I hesitated, surprised at her daring in barring my way. Naught did I care for but my Finduilas, I was eager only to look on her.

Her smile waned as she realized, maybe, her boldness. She stood aside and let me pass.

The chamber was dimly lit and my nostrils flared at the smells within -- odours of herbs and the sharp tang of the afterbirth.

Around the bed were maids and ladies-in-waiting. I was surprised for I thought to see the healers gathered there instead. I did not trust myself with speech, and so I stood staring at the chattering women. Slowly the flow of their words died, until they stopped their bustling.

The women parted and the sight of Finduilas caused my heart to beat strangely.

She was abed, her head turned toward me. I felt my heart sink at her eyes, there was no light in them. They blinked, dull and deaden mockeries of the lovely shining orbs I loved staring into. Fear gave my heart another painful twist, and then vanished as recognition lit her eyes. She smiled.

_She lives!_ I was gladdened to see that she had taken care to be presentable, and yet dismayed at the pallor of her skin.

_She lives!_ The thought echoed in my mind, until I could hear naught else.

Then she stretched forth her hand. Still I stood as a fool, my mind empty of all but the one thought.

_She lives! _

'My lord,' she whispered, and broke the hold of the litany. Finally, I could think.

_Move!_ I commanded myself, and drove leaden feet forward. 'Such likeness he bears,' said she, trying to rise from the bed. Though weakened by the terrible burden of bearing and birthing the child, still she was alert to my every mood. 'Look at him, my lord,' she asked, almost gasping with effort. 'Such lovely eyes--'

I could bear no longer to hear her beg. I turned to the woman and received the bundle, with not a little caution.

Within was a child, very fair even to my stern eyes, and very calm for one thrust rudely into a new world. His reaction was much different from Boromir, who came into the world yelling his displeasure.

The child seemed to have much on his mind, even as I considered him. He frowned, and Finduilas laughed as she came forward, helped by two of her ladies-in-attendance. I turned, amazed not at her rising but at the note of affection in her laughter: long had it been since she found a reason to feel gay.

'He looks exactly like you when you are at your desk, my Lord,' she said, her voice barely a whisper. 'So full of thought and purpose.' There was amusement in her voice and in her eyes was a light that I have seen only when she held Boromir.

No words could I speak, nor did I dare, for so wan she seemed that I feared she would dissipate right before my eyes.

Instead, I turned to the child again. Clear grey eyes stared back. He smiled, as if offering words of comfort. I was smiling in return before I realized it.

Looking up, I wanted to describe to Finduilas his seeming empathy when I saw my reflection from the mirror hung on the wall behind her. Clear grey eyes stared back.

Instantly, the visions that had troubled my dreams came unbidden.

_By the hands of one who bear my likeness -- who could bear such likeness, save one of my blood?_ In horrified fascination, I stared at the child. _Too much my likeness! Does my Stewardship unravel, ere it begins?_ I wondered in bitterness, and not for the first time. I required time alone.

Finduilas was looking at me, and for a moment, our eyes met. I knew then she recalled my increasingly troubled sleep.

'My lord, you are leaving already? Will you not stay and know your son?' she asked.

'There will be time later.' But before I could push the child into the midwife's hands, there came an urgent knock on the door.

'My lord,' called a voice. 'The Steward asks if you are ready to present his grandson.'

Casting a glance at Finduilas, I answered: 'We shall be in his chambers within the hour.'

The hallways echoed with footfalls and the child's gurgling chatter as we proceeded to the Steward's rooms. He nestled in a maid's arms for Finduilas had remained in the rooms; even the visit to the Steward's rooms was beyond her strength. 

Full of mirth the child was and I wondered if perhaps I had been mistaken, that it was the troubles piled upon on the Steward's desk clouding my mind.

I stole a glance at the bundle in the maiden's arms.

He looked content, likely as he had suckled during the hour. Finduilas had insisted on nursing him, though I worried about the strain on her. Yet I let be, for she drew comfort from cradling him, and the closeness they shared seemed to revive her. It was clear, her love for the child; and how could she not, for he was, after all, a child of her body.

_'And a child of yours!'_ She would cry if she but knew these thoughts.

_Can I love him?_ Despite myself, I was reaching for him. _And why should I not? My blood flows in his veins----_ He was looking at me, eyes bright and clear.

My head throbbed and I hesitated. I drew back the outstretched hand. Turning away, I looked resolutely ahead into the darkening arches. The way to the Steward's chambers seemed to stretch forth into eternity, and I walked at the head of a grim procession, silent but for the child's laughter.

My lord was propped up in his bed, like a skeletal puppet commanded by unseen hands, for though the strange illness that had merely kept him abed these years past had turned suddenly savage, still it could not rob him of his mind: despite his wasting body, he was alert as ever. It pained me greatly to know his end was nigh, and that his dying body was the cage that tied him to the living world.

'I do not have time to squander,' he said, his words slow and his utterance painful.

I was not aware that I stared. I turned then to receive the child.

Unfolding the cloths, I removed him and placed a hand beneath him, cupping his head with the other -- and almost dropped him when in a moment a vision came: a large round stone searing my hands, my grasping hands. _The Stone sits in the Tower! _I reminded myself. Troubled, I fought to keep my hold on the child, for aught I could feel was pain that was yet to be.

The beating of my heart was gaining rapidly in speed, and the roar in my head was drowning out the child's cries. It took another moment before I realized my hold on him was causing him discomfort. My breath came in painful gulps and I panted. With much care, I shifted my hold and held out the struggling body.

'My lord,' I said through clenched teeth, trying to control my breath. 'May I present...' I did not know why, but at the moment, I came to a decision. 'My lord, may I present Faramir1.'

_No, I did not mean to say it!_ Did I meant it to be? _No, let me take back the moment, and name him anon._ Too late, too late, a naming was not taken lightly nor is it allowed for the uttered name to be withdrawn.

My lord considered in turn the child in my hands and at his own son.

At length, the Steward stirred. He smiled, and said: 'I had held you thus ---- he has the look of you.' Weak though his voice was, I could detect a certain indulgence.

_Are we truly so alike, Father?_ thought I as I looked from my sire to my child though aloud I said: 'You are pleased then with your grandson?'

'Why should I not be? Though I -- had not thought to look upon another as like to you,' he said, with difficulty. Coughs began to wrack his body, but he refused the healers' aid.

Instead, he began to murmur, hearkening to days he yearned for despite their swift passage into memory, speaking images I was loth to recall, for the Steward liked to call the other2 and I his twin captains.

'Ah, but for the formidable might of my beloved captains,' he said fondly. 'Ever were you set upon my right, and he my left. In merit and strength, both equal. Much was wrought by my twin captains and more could have been achieved; but it has come near to naught now, for he is gone away.' He twisted away again, as the coughs took his breath.

'Your heir and son remains, your faithful subject, toiling in your stead, that the realm remains, despite the breaking seams,' I said in an even tone. 'Does it not gladden your heart?' I asked, ere my restraint took hold once more. 'Does it not suffice?'

He turned back, and it seemed to me he was surprised to discover my thoughts. 'I had not -- you are my heir, nothing can diminish that. Remember it!' Again the coughs intruded on his speech.

'It is ever close to my heart,' I said.

Through eyes suddenly clouded, he seemed to think upon those words. 'Too much and in error I presumed, I see it now,' he said, deep in frown. 'My time is nigh, Denethor, son of mine,' he whispered then.

Naught did I say to that, not in sorrow nor in comfort for the city itself was braced for the inevitable: his passing would surprise no one.

Then he sighed, 'Would he was here--it would ease my passing, to know you have his aid. Alas!'

Still he hearkened for the departed one. He continued to murmur of memories past, while I stood in silence.

I waited, even as the child continued to struggle. My hands began to tremble, not from tiredness certainly, nor was he heavy; perhaps it was the weary weight of bearing the office I did not yet hold.

At length, the Steward returned to the present.

He beckoned for the child to be brought nearer. 'Faramir,' he said, looking at the child. There was a fondness in his eyes, a look I had not thought to see ever again. Suddenly I felt envy toward the child, that the Steward would bestow such favour upon him. Father spoke again to him. 'You shall prove yourself sufficient3 to the tasks before you.' Then he added in an almost conspiratorial tone: 'I know you will.'

He looked up then. As our eyes met, he seemed to delve deep, seeking. A sudden fear of what he might find and his thoughts of what he saw seized my heart; I set my will lest I faltered and turned away for I would not be weak before him.

At length he released his hold, and in his eyes was something I had never seen before and it seemed he would speak.

Finally he said: 'I keep you from other business.' _Is that aught you have to say? Father, my lord Steward? _Disappointment, or maybe relief crowded my mind. _Do you approve then of what you see of your heir's thoughts? _

But he was close and no longer heard my thoughts. He stretched forth an unsteady hand. With effort he took breath and rasped: 'Hail, then, Faramir... hail, son of Gondor!'

Finduilas awaited our return, eager to hold the child in her arms once more.

'What did my lord say?' she asked as she kissed the child.

I could not speak. The words held fast. _Say it,_ I commanded myself. _Tell her you have named her son anew, that he is named awry._

'My lord?' she asked. She had stopped fussing over the child, and held him closer to her. 'Is aught well with his lordship?' She stretched forth a hand, beckoning for me to draw nearer. 'Are you unwell?'

I bent my will toward the words I must say. _Speak his name! _

'My lord?' she asked again.

'The Steward was pleased with Faramir.'

She stared, and words seemed to fail her. At length she asked, 'Faramir?' A frown ceased her brow. I knew she wondered at the change. Perhaps she recalled how the Stewards came by their governance: she was aware of the child's namesake.

She gazed at the child. 'Faramir my son,' she whispered to him at length. 'It seems a name difficult to bear, to be thought of as merely sufficient, but you shall turn it, son of Denethor, into one more than worthy of your father, yes?'

He laughed as if in affirmation and she smiled. But she refused to look at me.

'I am tired, my lord,' she said softly and turned away.

I felt a strange tightening and my heart was beating oddly. In silence, I retreated to the study.

At my desk I stayed until dawn, for the task of managing Gondor's daily needs had been passed to me, that the Steward could be free to nurse his ailing body.

At length, my mind wandered, and the smell of iron and oil and rust took my attention: the Steward's keys. They sat upon my desk, and among them was the one for the Tower's door. I recalled the vision, rubbing my hands at the memory of burning pain. _And yet it will show much that my foresight cannot unveil. And should the Steward not use it, in the King's stead?_ And if _that_ power of seeing was mine to wield, my sight would be the clearer, and I might not have been so easily swayed to name the child thus.

_Were the dreams mere figments of an overwrought mind? Would I doubt this gift that had served me well?_ And yet, for this once, I would that they were false. Grimly, I stretched forth a leaden hand.

Cold metal greeted my hand as I separated the key from the others. A chorus of dull clinking sounded as I held it up by the chain. I was ready to know, I told myself, ready for the truth of the Seeing-Stone. And yet I held still the keys, staring at the worn metal of the Tower key. Thus I sat for a length of time, unable to rise. At the last, I comforted myself with the thought that the searing grasp would be more than I could bear then and that I had had enough visions for one day. So the keys I laid down, and turned again to the work at hand, the urge to go to the Tower pushed aside.

And at last when my strength gave way, as was my wont when work pressed I spent the night there. I would not be able to bear the rebuke of her silence nor was I minded to try.

Despite the tasks that filled my days, the visions were ever on the edge of my mind, flitting away when my thoughts turn to them.

The nights I continued to spend alone in the study -- until she asked for me, two weeks thence.

I returned to unattended rooms, and I knew then the depth of her determination. Despite her ill health, my Finduilas was no weak-minded fool; she was prepared and unless she procured an answer, she would not rest.

Upon the balcony she stood, her gaze seaward. Naught did she wear but her nightgown even as the chill of the night wind deepened, for ever she had said she needed to feel the touch of the sea it brought inland.

With her cloak in hand, I approached.

'Finduilas,' I called as I stepped forth. She turned, and smiled. I felt another stab of pain then, for the smile was but a wan shadow of its former brilliance.

She returned to her watch. I embraced her as I carefully wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, for she was but a wisp of herself; so frail she had become that I fear the wind would carry her off.

'What is this I hear? Why do you not sleep?' I chided as I held her close. She trembled, and I drew her closer.

'I was waiting for this,' she said as she leaned back into my arms. 'Long have I yearned to be this close to you again, my lord,' she said wistfully. 'If it but turn your thoughts to me more often, refusing to rest would be the least I do.'

I did not know which I felt more: guilt or regret. 'You do not need to contend for my attention,' I assured her.

'Do I not?' she asked in wonder. 'You have grown distant, since you began ruling in the Steward's stead.'

I could not deny her charge. 'We will speak of it anon,' I promised. 'But will you not heed the healers? You should not risk the elements so.'

No answer she gave, instead she began softly to hum.

Thus we stood until her song waned. Still I held her, letting her song fill the silence of the night.

Her body had begun to warm again. Her closeness and the sound of her lovely voice recalled the early days of our marriage, when she was hale and we were learning to live together. Those were my happiest days. But too soon they had sullied, for often I was called away on the Steward's errand, and our time was spent more apart than together. Treasured were the meagre hours we had, and how she brightened those grim days! And yet, there was a price to my happiness, unbeknown then, for she was being pried from my slipping grasp day by day, as surely as the Shadow that crept across the lands. Had I had seen it sooner, perhaps I could have saved her; and perhaps her yearning of the sea would not have taken hold of her.

Yet there was naught to blame. I had been over-stretched; it was not merely the Shadow I strove against: my efforts were divided between the threat rising in the East ... and the one in the Steward's court ----

I turned away from those thoughts and bent my will to her and what she sought this night.

She was humming, and lulled by her wordless song, I began to hope that she would leave it alone.

Then she sighed.

'My lord...' she said.

'Yes?'

'Why?'

'Much has changed,' I began, 'but I will not allow the work of my forebears to be undone. The Stewards' rule must not be broken--'

She turned then and I longed to wipe away the tears glistening on her face.

'What have you seen? What can he have done to deserve the name? For you mark him, do you not? He is but a newborn child; your son!' she cried. She shrugged off the cloak and out of my grasp. 'It seems, my Lord,' she said evenly, 'You trust more to distorted visions than the truth before you!' She cast her hand outward, and cried: 'Dreams take you and you go willingly, yet stubbornly blind and unmoved to the reality you remain. That is why you have named him thus, is it not? Aught is ever at the mercy of your dreams!'

Before I knew it, I had grabbed her by the shoulders. 'What do you know? What have you heard?' I pressed. I was causing her hurt. Quickly letting go, I pleaded: 'Finduilas, do not speak lightly of what you know not!' I had been shouting at her, I realized. Wanting to soothe her, I reached for her hands. 'Finduilas---- '

She recoiled, and cried: 'Yes! Verily, I know no longer the man who shares my bed--' She wept.

I could barely think, yet allay her grief I must.

'Finduilas,' I said as I drew her close once more. 'Finduilas, listen to me.' Through her tears, I could see that she awaited my next words. 'I do not deny the child,' I said with care. 'Perhaps you think I am unmoved, but what man would not rejoice to see his line's continuation?'

She stared at me. 'Why then were you so ill-pleased when you held him?' she whispered. 'Upon seeing him, an ill-humour took you,' she said with a shuddering breath. 'The displeasure was plain on your face my lord. You seemed ready to throttle him -- what am I to think?' she cried.

I wondered at her words, for I had not known that my trepidation was so plain to see. 'I do not ask for your understanding but know this: it is a difficult thing for me to bear, to look on him and yet feel such foreboding. Yes, bitter indeed that the joy of his birth should be felled by ... my doubt.' Her efforts to win free of my hold grew more frenetic. 'Finduilas, I do not deny him,' I said again. She was not listening. I raised my voice: 'Hist, Finduilas: Faramir is as much my son as Boromir!' She stopped struggling, her attention caught at last.

There was a moment of silence, and her weeping abated. And I knew it to be true, despite my dreams.

'Then why?' she asked. A thought occurred to her then. 'Strife?' she cried in disbelief. For a long moment our eyes met. 'Is that what you see?' she asked slowly. Yes, kin-strife would be an easier thing for her to bear than what I had seen. Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded. 'No-- my sons will never strive against each other!'

_And never would I be less than truthful to you, I swore long ago. _I smiled. _Never is too long a time for oaths._

'That too is what I wish, for them to know their places. Nothing would please me more than to have them both stand by my side and be counted among Gondor's ablest captains. Yet, whatever comes, I see that Faramir must not gain the seat.'

'No--' she whispered, as she burrowed her face into my chest. Then she looked up, alight with such determination that I was startled. 'There will be no strife between them! I will teach them, to know their places and be content.'

'Yet none will I have as heir save my firstborn,' I returned, more grimly than I had intended.

She shook her head. 'Do not judge him in such haste, my lord. Not ere he is proven false,' she pleaded.

Wordless, I cupped her delicate face in my calloused hands. 'He will bear the name as a constant reminder then,' I said gently. 'Time enough for training our sons.' Her tears flowed anew, but in gladness; it was the right thing to say.

She required rest and I did not wish to dwell upon it any more than needed. 'It grows late.' I turned her toward the rooms. 'Come, lady mine, you must to bed and rest now.' Then I kissed her and drew her into the chamber.

* * *

**Footnotes**

1 The Lord of The Rings. Appendix A, (iv) Gondor And The Heirs Of Anárion:

_'Many of the Wainriders now passed south of Mordor ... In 1944 King Ondoher and both his sons, Artamir and Faramir, fell in battle north of the Morannon, and the enemy poured into Ithilien.' _

According to the entry on Faramir, son of Ondoher, at the Encyclopaedia of Arda ), he followed his father and elder brother to battle in secret though he should have stayed in Minas Tirith where he was safe. Thus ended the line of Tarondor, the direct lineage of the Gondorian Kings was broken and the realm was thrown into political disarray.

Through the Stewards did not begin to govern Gondor until one hundred and six years later, it set the stage for the commencement of their rule.

2 The Lord of The Rings. Appendix A, (iv) Gondor And The Heirs Of Anárion:

_'There was dismay in the City at the departure of Thorongil, and to all men it seemed a great loss, unless it were Denethor, the son of Ecthelion, a man now ripe for the Stewardship, to which after four years, he succeeded on the death of his father. _

Denethor II was a proud man, tall, valiant and more kingly than any man who had appeared in Gondor for many lifes of men; ... Indeed he was like to Thorongil as to one of nearest kin, and yet was ever placed second in the hearts of men and the esteem of his father...'

3 No official word on the meaning of Faramir has been given. The most reasonable postulation seems to be the one put forth on the "Encyclopaedia of Arda" (w w w. glypyweb. com / arda): the Elvish root for _far_ means sufficient, in contrast to the meaning of Boromir _(favoured jewel)._


End file.
